


Caramel Macchiato Eyes

by CelestialYuuri



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6248548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialYuuri/pseuds/CelestialYuuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil is the young owner of Decadence, one of Manchester’s most promising and delicious bakeries. Always smiling and always baking, he’s secretly wishes to find someone of his own, creating one dazzling wedding cake after another.<br/>Dan works at a nearby Starbucks, but it’s sucking the life out of him. Regardless, he tries to make time to visit Decadence.<br/>Throughout Dan’s Saturday night visit each week, Dan and Phil have gotten to know each other minimally, but they’ve never truly had time to sit down and talk for more than five minutes.<br/>So, what happens when the entrepreneur and the regular actually get to know each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You give me something to talk about

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my beta Josh and my best friends/mutuals on Tumblr who helped me write this fanfiction and spread it all over Tumblr! I now have an AO3 account, so there will be a link to that when I reblog my post containing CLE next!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Enjoy, and please leave a comment if you do!
> 
> Chapter title lyrics from St. Patrick - PVRIS

**Phil**

As my alarm on my phone blares “Toxic” by Britney Spears, I stretch my arms to the ceiling and get out of bed. I walk over to my window and find fresh snow littering the streets of Manchester, the sparkling precipitation bringing life to dull pavement.  
  
The smell of pancakes fills my nostrils. One of my best friends, PJ, stands in my kitchen, wearing a Totoro apron, smiling, and gesturing to my little dining room.  
  
“Happy Birthday, Phil!” PJ exclaims, and I run over to the table.  
  
“Strawberries? Whipped cream? Chocolate?” I glance over at my favorite Jake mug, filled nearly to the brim and covered in caramel drizzle and foam. “You even made coffee for me!”  
  
“Caramel macchiato, your favorite,” PJ smiles. I jump up from my chair to give him a hug.  
  
“Thank you so much, Peej! None of this was necessary—“  
  
“Nonsense! I only want the _best_ for my _best_ friend!” I grin.  
  
“You can stay for pancakes, right?” PJ nods enthusiastically, already reaching for the golden syrup.  
  
“So, what are you doing for your birthday, then?” He asks.  
I shrug my shoulders.  
  
“I think I’m just looking after the shop, I guess. I might keep it open later…”  
  
“Phil, why would you do that?” I blush.  
  
“I kind of want to see someone after the rush,” I mumble.  
  
“What!?” His response is muffled by the pancake in his mouth. He swallows. “Tell me all about it!”  
  
I shrug. “His name is Dan, he works at the Starbucks just a few blocks down, and he comes to the shop every Saturday night. He enjoys playing Halo in his spare time, and he’s crazy good at Mario Kart. He seems really cynical at first, but he’s a really cool guy. I know that he’s really busy, and by the time I close up shop, he’s still at work. So this time, I’m going to try keeping the store open later,” PJ shakes his head.  
  
“You don’t need the sleep or anything?” I sigh.  
  
“It won’t matter in the end. I just want to see what he’s really like, when he’s not in a rush,” My best friend nods.  
  
“I know the feeling. I say you should go for it! You deserve to feel that kind of happiness with someone,” I take another bite of the golden pancake.  
  
“Thanks, PJ,” I look over at the clock. “Crap! I lost track of time!” I scramble to rinse off the dishes and utensils and leave them in the sink. PJ sighs heavily.  
  
“Right, I’ll see you tomorrow night for a round of Tokaido. Let me know how the ‘keeping the store open for Dan’ thing goes!” I nod.  
  
“Thank you again, PJ,” He shakes his head and smiles.  
  
“It’s your birthday, Phil. You deserve a break.” He slides on his winter coat and boots. I take an eight minute shower, blow-dry my hair, style it, and find my favorite blue sweater, white pants, and Converse. _You can’t dawdle, Phil,_ I remind myself. _You have something special planned today._  
  
“Goodbye, Ultimitheus!” I call out to my pet cactus. (Yes, my life is that exciting.)  
  
**Dan**  
  
There are no words for how much I do _not_ want to go to work today. There’s so much chaos at Starbucks, and of course, I’m always stuck in the middle of it. One of my co-workers and my reason for even staying at Starbucks, Louise, came down with a cold yesterday, and she can’t come in for work for a few days. The night before when she was leaving work early, I offered to stay with her after my shift and make chicken soup, but she wouldn’t have it.  
  
“I don’t want to you getting sick,” She explained, coughing to accentuate her point, and I nodded.  
  
“I’ll check on you later,” I promised. “I hope you feel better soon!” I called out to her as I left Starbucks.  
  
Now, I’m stuck. No one can cover for me, and I know I can’t call in sick. So here I am. I reluctantly get out of bed and straighten out the sheets. As usual, I put on my khaki pants, shoes, and black polo. _Here we observe the Howell, taking another dreaded step into the awaiting void. Only about twenty years left in you, buddy._  
  
“Shut up,” I mumble to myself, grabbing a banana from the kitchen and consuming it at lightning speed. After a ten-minute shower, I put on my uniform and blow-dry my hair. It looks like a freaking Hobbit, and I hate it. The customers will just have to deal today. “Bye,” I call out to no one in particular, locking my flat door and heading to work.  
  
The walk to and from work is almost unbearable enough to hail a taxi rather than save the money… Almost.  
  
“Good morning, Dan,” A girl around my age with brunette hair, Sara, says in a cheerful tone. I smile weakly and pin my nametag to my green apron.  
  
“Morning, Sa-aah-ra,” I yawn as I say her name.  
  
“Any news on that mystery baker?” She winks, and I laugh.  
  
“You mean Phil? No, not really,” I reply, and Sara giggles.  
  
“Oh, come on, Dan! You’ve been in love with him ever since you started working here!” I blush.  
  
“It’s his birthday today,” I mumble.  
  
“What? I didn’t hear that. What’d you say, Romeo?”  
  
“It’s Phil Lester’s bloody birthday!” I shout-whisper.  
  
“Did you get him anything?” I shake my head.  
  
“I don’t have the money,” Sara’s green eyes widen to the size of bowling balls.  
  
“Daniel Howell! You’ve _got_ to get him something! What does he like? What does he enjoy doing?”  
  
“Sometimes he plays cards with his friends," I trail off.  
  
“Perfect! I have pancake playing cards from Japan. He’ll love them—“  
  
“But they’re yours, right? You should keep them. You don’t have to waste them on me,” I protest, and she clicks her tongue.  
  
“Dan, when it’s love, you dare.” She presses the pack of cards in my hand, and I shove them in the pocket of my apron.  
  
“But I don’t even know if it’s love,” I sigh.  
  
“We’ll come back to that. What else does he like?” I smile.  
“He _loves_ lions, and he destroys his friends at Mario Kart. He’s told me about how he plays with his friend PJ when they don’t have work. His favorite band is Muse, and, um,” I stop myself there before I reveal all of the nuggets of information I’ve been collecting for nearly three years.  
  
“What is it?” Sara wonders. “You can tell me. My lips are sealed,”  
  
“His favorite drink from Starbucks is a piping-hot, soy caramel macchiato,” She gasps.  
  
“Make one for him before you leave, and give it to him! You’ve got to write something adorable on it, though. He’ll get the hint. He _has_ to,” Sara squeals. I swear she lives vicariously through my nonexistent love life.  
  
“Decadence is never open when I leave for work, though,” I counter.  
  
“Maybe he’ll keep it open for you?”  
  
“I highly doubt that,”  
  
“It’s a chance you have to take.”  
  
With that, the conversation ends and customers pour in before their nine-to-five jobs begin. Vanilla frappuccinos, mocha soy lattes, and all kinds of ridiculous drinks are served. Half of the customers go to Starbucks for their muffins, the other half head for Decadence after they grab their complicated coffee.  
  
“Have a great day,” I say after they pay, and some of the businessmen and women respond politely. Others give me a dirty look. I’m used to it.  
  
I look back at the clock. _Only a million more hours to go…_  
  
**Phil**  
  
Just like every morning, the rush of muffin men (as I call my customers that come in for morning muffins) arrives around seven in the morning. It’s a repetitive streak of, “What kind of muffin would you like? That will be two pounds. Have a good day!” That goes on for at least an hour. _Ring-ting-ting! _The bell rings, signaling a customer. An older woman and regular, Mrs. Collins, walks into the shop, looking a bit frazzled.“Hello, ma’am. How may I help you?”__  
  
“Um, yes, I’m here for my daughter’s birthday cake?”  
  
“The mermaid cove cake, right? It’s in the back, I’ll get it row quick,” I smile, and she looks relieved.  
  
“Thank God, I was hoping that it would be done in time today,”  
  
“Is her birthday today?”  
  
“Yes, actually,”  
  
“That’s funny; your daughter and I share the same birthday,” I laugh. The older woman looks a bit taken aback.  
  
“Well, happy birthday, Mr. Lester,”  
  
“Thank you, Mrs. Collins,” I grin, carrying the box. “One mermaid cove cake!” She opens the box.  
  
“Oh, goodness! Phillip, you’ve outdone yourself once again! Riley is going to _love_ this!”  
  
“It’s no trouble at all! I love baking cakes for Riley and the boys,” I answer honestly.  
  
“They’re always a hit at their parties,” Mrs. Collins gushes. “Well, I better get this home. Riley is going to be _so_ happy! Thank you very much, Mr. Lester,”  
  
“Anytime! Do you need help getting that to your car?” She nods, and I put on my winter coat. I open the door and lead her to her car, prying the door open, slick from the ice.  
  
“Have a good day!” I call out to her, and Mrs. Collins grins.  
  
“You too, Phillip! Happy birthday!” She drives away, and my teeth begin to chatter.  
  
It’s freezing outside! I better get inside.  
  
After her visit, it gets fairly quiet around the bakery, so in an effort to eliminate the silence, I turn on “Sugar We’re Going Down” by Fall Out Boy over the speakers.  
  
Maybe Dan will hear his favorite song if he stops by later tonight.


	2. Let me hold your hand, we can talk about our favorite bands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you to my beta, Josh. You're the best <3  
> Chapter title lyrics are from “Swim Down” by Moose Blood. Great band, you should check them out :)

**Dan**  
  
As twelve o’clock nears, I hang up my apron--the pin in its pocket--and knock on my boss’s door.  
  
“I’m going out for my lunch break,” I inform him, and he acknowledges me.  
  
“Be back by one, please,” I nod. As soon as I leave work, I rush straight home to prepare Phil’s gift, remembering the pack of cards in my pocket.  
  
I search for a bag of some sort to put Phil’s gift in, but all I can scramble is a My Little Pony bag from my little cousin—she thought if she liked My Little Pony, then I would as well—and a moderately-sized GameStop bag.  
  
I go with GameStop.  
  
Next, I reach for the brand-new Muse T-shirt I bought for this exact occasion, Mario Kart 8 so we can play it at his flat and a stuffed lion I received from Louise one day. She knew that it was Phil’s favorite animal, too.  
  
All these second-hand gifts… I want to get Phil Lester something amazing because that’s what he is.  
  
Suddenly, it hits me.  
  
**Phil**  
  
Numerous customers wish me a happy birthday, and it’s nice. Really, it is. I just want to see Dan. He doesn’t have to get me anything special. I just want to talk to him without us worrying about the world.  
It’s silly, but I always imagine the kind of atmosphere that would surround us when I meet him.  
Since he works at Starbucks, he would smell like roasted coffee and a mixture of spices—probably cinnamon, peppermint, and chocolate.  
  
I inhale. The scent is spectacular.  
  
The door chimes, and my smile is wider than ever. It’s Dan, dressed in a jumper covered in snowflakes, black skinny jeans, and the most perfect smile I have ever laid eyes on.  
  
And me? Well, I’m always a mess. I’m covered in flour—white powder in my black hair and on my face—and my apron has a million stains on it from food coloring, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just shocked to see me.  
Then, I hear his voice. It’s warm, velvety, and comforting. However, it keeps saying the same thing over and over again. It’s a name, my name.  
  
“Phil… Phil… Phil… ”  
  
“Phil!” PJ’s voice snaps me out of my train of thought.  
  
“What is it?” I ask, yawning.  
  
“I was trying to tell you about, agh, never mind. You’ll find out soon enough. You should probably get back to work,” PJ shakes his head and smiles.  
  
“Right, did you want anything?”  
  
“I’m craving a small, blue slushie,” I nod and prepare the ice in a cup, then pouring the blue raspberry syrup on top, soaking the ice quite nicely.  
  
“Test,” I hand the slushie to PJ. He takes a sip.  
  
“Ahhh, delicious! How much do you want for that?”  
  
“However much you’d like to pay,” I shrug. The slushies aren’t on the menu yet, but I told PJ about my idea a few weeks ago. He hands me his amount.  
  
“Here you go,” I carefully tuck the money away in the register.  
  
“Thanks, Phil. You’re a good friend,” PJ remarks.  
  
“Anytime,” I remind him, and he nods, taking another sip of blue raspberry goodness.  
  
“So, you really think Dan is gonna come?” I sigh.  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
**Dan**  
  
“So, what’s the plan?” Sara inquires eventually, and I take a deep breath.  
  
“I have my gift ready, and after my last shift, I’m gonna go to Decadence. This time, I’m staying longer than five minutes,”  
  
“Oooh! So, you guys are gonna get to talk and stuff, right?”  
  
“If it’s even open, remember?”  
  
“Right, right,” She dismisses that.  
  
“If, I end up staying the night, can you cover for me tomorrow?” Sara squeals, as expected.  
  
“Of course I will!”  
  
“But look, Sara; it’s not like that. We’ll probably play Mario Kart N64 or something, and I won’t want to go outside and walk home to my flat so he’ll let me stay at his and then we’ll—“  
  
“How long have you been imagining this?” Sara smirks, and I scowl.  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“Alright, so when are you leaving for work?” She asks seriously.  
  
“Just ten, like usual,”  
  
“You’re not leaving early!?” She sounds shocked, but I don’t really know why.  
  
“No, why would I do that?”  
  
“Dan, this is the guy of your dreams, alright? Make an effort! Wear something other than that uniform, please!”  
  
“Fine, I’ll leave at nine forty-five. Happy?”  
  
**Phil**  
  
I would normally close Decadence at eight-thirty, but I’m keeping the place open later. It feels odd because there’s only one other person in the shop, and “This Is Gospel” by Panic! At the Disco is playing over the speakers. I sing along under my breath, even though I can’t match Brendon Urie’s rich tone.  
  
“’And truth to be told, I never was yours; the fear, the fear of falling apart,”  
  
“Phil, I’m headed out for the night!” One of my employees, Ben, shouts, and I nod.  
  
“Good night, Ben!” The door slams shut.  
  
Now, I am all alone in Decadence. I hope that it won’t be like that for long.  
  
I’ve always found that when you’re looking forward to something, you can’t help but watch the clock tick. You think you’ve been waiting for centuries, but it’s only been about five minutes. Music is playing, but inside my head, it’s bustling with anticipation and only thinking of one thing; what could happen tonight.  
  
**Dan**  
  
When I can just leave this place? There are no insomniacs tonight, so what am I still doing here?  
The clock moves by at an agonizingly slow pace, and there are only a few employees and one girl at a laptop. It’s nine-ten, and I just want to jump in a portal that leads directly to Decadence. Talk about a dramatic entrance, huh?  
  
“Dan, do you know what you’re going to do when you get to hang out with him?” Sara inquires, giggling.  
  
I stare out the window, put my elbow on the counter, lean on my hand, and sigh happily.  
  
“I think I’ll wish him a happy birthday and give him his presents.”  
  
“What about the drink?”  
  
“THE DRINK!” I shouted. “Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod, what am I gonna write? What am I gonna make?”  
  
“Soy caramel macchiato—“  
  
“RIGHT! Okay, caramel, okay, soy, okay—“  
  
“Dan! Get ahold of yourself!” Sara slaps me in the face, and I wince a little. She’s got a killer backhand. “Alright, now, think this through, and calm down, please.” I nod and reach for each ingredient. Within a few minutes, Phil’s soy caramel macchiato is completed, and there’s only one thing left.  
  
“Write a message!” Sara squeals. I look over at her and raise my eyebrows.  
  
“What should it be?”  
  
“Cheesy and brilliant.” Obviously.  
  
“No, I mean, what do I write?” I inquire. I think for a moment or five. “I’VE GOT IT!”  
  
“What?” Sara questions.  
  
“IT! I’VE GOT THE THING THAT WILL DO THE THING!”  
  
“Yippee! Now GO HOME Howell! Do the thing! Seize the day!”  
  
“Not until nine-thirty at least!” My boss calls from his office.  
  
**Phil**  
  
Where is he? I wonder. Why isn’t he here yet? Is he getting held up at work?  
It feels like I’ve been waiting ages for this. Is he even coming tonight? Why would he, right? It’s not like I invited him or anything. It’s just me getting my hopes up again.  
  
I slump on the counter and pretend to fall asleep, but my ears are alert for any sign of a certain bell ringing.  
  
**Dan**  
  
“Nine-thirty! Go ahead, Dan!” Sara exclaims, and I sprint to my flat, coffee in hand. My feet pound against the pavement covered in sleet, and I nearly slip, but I catch myself.  
  
“Go, go, go!” I tell myself as I unlock my door and rush to grab the GameStop bag. I throw on a galaxy T-shirt and black skinny jeans, along with some black Converse, and I check my mirror in the bathroom. “Hair is still alright,” I shrug. Then, I stop at the refrigerator.  
  
“I really hope he likes crappy cake.”  
  
**Phil**  
  
I look around the bakery, and no one is here except for me. “Thinking About You” by Ed Sheeran is playing over the speakers, but it’s kind of painful now.  
  
“Phil! Phil? Phil!” I hear someone shouting my name, and the bell rings.  
  
_Ring-ting-ting!_ It’s so wonderful, so familiar.  
  
Then, someone is heaving and panting, and I look over at the entrance.  
  
There he is.  
  
Dan Howell, the Starbucks guy and person I’ve been hoping to come to Decadence tonight, is here, and he’s carrying a GameStop bag, a coffee cup, and something wrapped in tin foil?  
  
For a few seconds or more, I can barely breathe. All I can think is, Dan is _here_. Dan is actually _here_.  
  
“H-hi,” I stutter, grinning simultaneously. I marvel at him. I can’t help it.  
  
“Happy birthday, Phil,” Dan greets, and he sets his things down and gives me a hug.  
_Is this real? This has to be a dream. Wake up, Phil. WAKE UP._  
  
As he pulls away, I slap myself in the face.  
  
“Nope, I’m awake,” I confirm. He laughs, and it’s hearty and illuminating in a sort of weird way. He just makes everything a little brighter.  
  
“So, where should I begin?” I ask, and he points to the tin-foiled box.  
  
“Just tear it open,” I carefully peel off the foil.  
  
_Happy Birthday Phil!_ is written in green icing on a vanilla cake, and it’s the perfect size to share.  
  
“Dan, this all too mu—“  
  
“The GameStop bag,” Dan says next, and I reach inside, pulling out a soft, navy blue T-shirt.  
  
“Aw man, Muse is my favorite band! Mario Kart 8!? Oh my goodness, it’s a stuffed lion! Thank you so much!” I gush, and Dan mumbles something. I’m not quite sure what it is.  
  
“Read the sleeve,” Dan laughs, and I glance at the cup holder.  
  
_You are so-y amazing, Phil! ^_^ You know what would be more amazing?_  
  
“Well, do you?” Dan teases me, and I kind of freeze in an instance. To say that I’m blushing is an understatement. In that moment, I am not only crimson but a million other shades. _Am I obvious yet? Is he asking me to be his?_  
  
“I, um, I think so?” Dan laughs.  
  
“Look, you don’t have to say anything right now. Besides, we hardly know each other—“  
  
“But I do know you!” I protest, and I realize I’ve spoken too much. I might as well keep my lips zipped forever now. There’s no way I’m recovering from that.  
  
“Well, what do you know?” I take a deep breath and exhale.  
  
“You’re Dan Howell. You work at the Starbucks down the street, and you’re having an existential crisis. Only Louise and myself know about that. You wear black a lot because you reflect on the world, and you lose faith in humanity lots of times. Usually you say that I restore it or someone else does. It’s pretty awesome, in fact. You’re terrified of the dark. You loved Winnie the Pooh when you were younger, and you still do. Halo was one of your favorite video games when you were a teenager, and you always, without fail, order a piece of chocolate cake with rainbow sprinkles on top. You have… Ever since I started Decadence,” I end quietly, and Dan just looks awed or scared. I’m not sure which is which anymore.  
  
Suddenly, he’s leaning toward me. I can smell peppermint emanating from him, and all I can feel is anxious.  
  
“Phil, no one else knows me the way you do,” He whispers. I can’t look at him too long because his eyes light up like a strand of fairy lights I keep at the front of the bakery during the winter. At the same time, there’s something stopping me from turning away.  
  
“When The Day Met The Night” by Panic! At the Disco is playing over the speakers, and I can’t remember the last time I felt this. My heart is sprinting, and my head is practically slamming itself against a wall with its erratic pounding.  
I am living in the moment, and I have lost all control.


	3. I want to spend forever hanging out with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title lyrics are from “I Miss You” by Candy Hearts, who are excellent live :)

**Dan**  
  
After spending an hour or two at Decadence, Phil wants me to come up to his flat, and I agree.  
  
“We could play your brand new game,” I hint, and Phil laughs.  
  
“Great minds think alike!” They really do.  
  
“Have you played this one yet?”  
  
“No, have you?”  
  
“Nope, I got this just for you,” I admit, and Phil’s eyes grow bigger.  
  
“Wait, so you’re saying you got the game in June last year, and you waited to play it just so you could give it to me for my birthday?” I blush.  
  
“Well, yeah, I wanted to play with you when I first got the game,”  
  
“We totally have to play it now!” Phil declares, and I nod, smiling.  
  
“I guess we do.” We take a selfie, and the first thing I do is send it to Louise with the message, “Guess who showed up at Decadence today!”  
  
**Phil**  
  
Since none of us have cars, we walk and talk on our way to my flat. It’s only a few blocks away, and besides, it’s good exercise. That’s what I tell myself, at least.  
  
“Oh, God, Phil! How do you do this every day? All the walking and, huff, huff, aaah!” Dan stops for a moment to catch his breath, and I can’t help but snort at him.  
  
“You do the same thing every day, too, Dan!”  
  
“Well, yeah, but UGH,”  
  
“I understand. We’ll get to play Mario Kart 8 soon, so don’t fret too much over the walk,” I remind him.  
  
In a matter of seconds, we’ve made it to my building.  
  
“Which one is your apartment?” Dan asks, and I point to my really high-up window.  
  
“That one,” I answer, and Dan groans.  
  
“Let’s take the lift, yeah?” I nod. We wait for the lift, and I press on the button that says “16.”  
  
“Going up,” Dan imitates the lady in the machine, and I laugh. I’ve wondered before if he would do something like that.  
  
When we get to the sixteenth floor, I dig for my key in my back pocket and unlock the door.  
  
“Yay, we’re here!” I announce, putting my key in a basket by the door. Dan goes straight to the lounge where he can see my gaming consoles. He gets the CD out of its case and puts it in my Wii U. Meanwhile, I slump down on the couch and cuddle up in my favorite Kirby blanket.  
  
“Let’s play it!” Dan shouts with a ton of enthusiasm, handing me the Wii U gamepad. I laugh.  
  
“Yeah, let’s do this! I’m totally gonna win this, though,” Dan guffaws.  
  
“You haven’t even played this, Phil, and neither have I! But, you should know that I am a Mario Kart champion. You’re gonna get creamed,” I gulp audibly for added effect, and Dan laughs uncontrollably.  
  
**Dan**  
  
After numerous rounds of Mario Kart 8--I destroy him, but Phil wins a few times—Mortal Kombat, and Halo 3, I start melting into the sofa.  
“Ughhhh, Phil, your sofa’s too comfortable,” I whine, and Phil laughs, turning off the TV after our last round of Halo.  
  
“Dan, you can stay the night if you need to? I don’t want you walking home. It’s too cold for that…” I agree, but something else is keeping me here.  
  
“Hey, um, do you have pajamas I can borrow for the night?” Phil nods.  
  
“Yeah, of course. They’re in my bedroom, second drawer on the right,”  
  
“Cool, thanks,” I blush, feeling awkward for asking for a set of clothes from practically a stranger. I walk down a small hallway and find what looks like his bedroom.  
  
I stare in awe at his room, suddenly feeling like a trespasser, but he said for me to go to his room, right?  
  
Posters of Muse and Buffy the Vampire Slayer adorn his walls, and his blue and green duvet looks incredibly comfy.  
  
I shake my head, returning to the mission at hand. I search for something warm with fleece. “No way, it’s Torchic!” I whisper-shouted to myself, and I immediately reach for the navy-blue, Pokemon-patterned pajama bottoms, pulling them over my legs. They’re a bit big, but there’s a string so I can tighten them.  
  
“Found something?” Phil sounds concerned, and I agree.  
  
“These are so cool!” He laughs, tossing a pillow to me.  
  
“Well, thank you! I’m glad you like them!”  
  
“Phiiiil, come cuddle with me,” I giggle, and I throw my hand up to my mouth. That wasn’t supposed to be said out loud. Phil just chuckles.  
  
“Alright, come here,” He says, and I hesitate, then oblige, crawling into his arms. He pulls a blanket over the two of us, and I nuzzle into his neck.  
  
“I had a lot of fun with you tonight,” I whisper to him, and Phil nods, wrapping his arms around me.  
  
“Me, too, Dan. I’m glad that we finally spent some time together,” He places his lips in my hair briefly, and I bury my face into his chest to hide my embarrassment. I’m burning up, but it’s in the best way possible.  
  
I could spend the rest of my life like this, and I would be content.  
  
The next morning, I awaken from my slumber, and I find that someone is pressed against me. I turn around very slowly, as to not disturb the person sleeping behind me. I glance back, and oh my God. Phil Lester.  
  
It’s the baker, the one I spent my Saturday nights with, if only for a few moments. It’s him. He’s here, and his arm is draped over my T-shirt clad chest. My lips settle into a lazy smile while his are still sleepy and curved downward in dream-filled concentration. It's the kind of shape where he doesn’t have to smile to look relaxed.  
It’s beautiful, really.  
  
_Vvvv!_ My phone vibrates. I grab my phone off of the coffee table, and a very amused Louise has texted me, _Don’t proclaim your undying love on the first date, best of luck :)))_  
  
I curse my co-worker’s name under my breath.  
  
**Phil**  
  
When I wake up, Dan isn’t next to me, and it’s kind of disappointing. However, I don’t lose faith when I wipe the sleep from my eyes and stretch to the sky and see him in my little kitchen. Muse is playing over a docking station, and Dan is dancing around the kitchen in my Pokémon pajama bottoms (Hoenn version) and his black T-shirt from the night before, humming softly under his breath.  
  
“Oh, hey, Phil? Sleep well?” He asks, and I nod happily, remembering the way he nuzzled into my chest the night before.  
  
“Definitely, so what are you making?”  
  
“Oh no, Phil, what are we making? Well, to put it quite simply, this amazing concoction is being devised to create the best pancakes ever. They have to be the best,”  
  
“I’ll try my best,” I laugh. “Whose recipe are we using?”  
  
“Have a guess?”  
  
“Delia Smith’s?” I wonder, and Dan pumps his fist in the air. “Alright, so we beat the eggs next--”  
  
“Chris Brown the eggs!” Dan exclaims, punching an egg in my mixing bowl. I reach over and take the eggshells out.  
  
“Dan... No,” I shake my head and laugh, and we’re both laughing now.  
  
I spot a bag of flour on my counter and throw a handful at him.  
  
“Flour fight!” Dan scoffs in an offended tone, and I giggle, my hands over my mouth.  
  
“Ohhh, you are _in_ for it!” Dan grabs a handful as well, and I go for the sugar next. He dips his hand into the flour again. Before he can make another move, I throw some sugar all over him, and he takes cover with his eyes closed and his arms over his face. It’s all over him: his eyelids, his cheeks, his arms, his lips…  
  
Dan and I just stare at each other, and it’s just like last night all over again. I am entranced and enchanted by his presence.  
I lean in, but it’s too sudden. I turn a shade of crimson and back away, but Dan pulls on the collar of my shirt and reels me back in.  
He kisses me, in a frenzy of sugar. I feel the sugar melting in my mouth, and everything is absolutely delicious. It doesn’t matter that our hands are covered in a combination of flour and sugar. It’s still decadent and chimerical. How is this happening? That doesn’t matter now. All that I care about is how long I’ve been waiting for his moment.  
  
I make an effort to memorize his curly locks, his chestnut eyes opened at first—like mine—and then drawing to a close to take it all in. I want to reminisce on this flash of time that impacts me so strongly. My heart does somersaults, and electricity floats through the air.  
“Mmm, sugary,” I remark, and Dan throws sugar at me in turn, giggling.  
  
“How’s this for sugary!?"


End file.
